


Christmas at 221 B

by benedictedcumberbatched



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Drabbles, F/M, headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benedictedcumberbatched/pseuds/benedictedcumberbatched
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of headcanons turned into drabbles centered around Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Snapshot of Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the characters don't belong to me

For fangirluntileternity: Molly makes hot coco with cinnamon for sherlock since †hey ran out of eggnog, she puts on to much cinnanom an gives the cup to SHerlock, and he sneezes. Molly can't stop laughing, manages to snap a picture while Sherlock is miffed. A week later molly posts a #tbt status on her blog with sherlock having whipped cream and cinnamom all over his face, and sherlock later starts laughing and can't stop laughing. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, he stops laughing right as she turns.

\--

Molly turned to look over her shoulder as she heard Sherlock laughing from his chair. “What’s so funny?” she asked coming closer to him. She saw a screen on his laptop suddenly close and she eyed him warily. 

"Nothing," she said quickly, his lips twitching as he tried to keep from laughing further. 

Turning back around to return to the kitchen and cooking dinner, she heard him chuckle.

Later that night while Sherlock was deep in his mind palace, Molly stole his laptop and took a peek, grinning as she went through his recent downloads and saw the picture she took of him the week before when he sneezed, coating his face in cinnamon and whipped cream. Who knew, perhaps it may accidentally end up on their Christmas cards.


	2. Sparkling Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Miz-Joely: Molly wears the sparkliest, glitteriest, shiniest little top to Sherlock’s Christmas party (John & Mary made him have), over a tight black skirt, and later (when he’s snogging her) admits she did it on purpose just to see how he’d react

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, nothing belongs to me.

Sherlock didn’t understand the point of having another Christmas party. Christmases and him did not seem to mesh well. First, there was the one during the year of the Woman where he had broken Molly down, out of jealously he later realized during those two years away. Then, there was the little one where he drugged his family and best friend’s wife and then killed a man who threatened the destroy the Watson family. 

But this Christmas was different he supposed. Setting his violin down, he kept watching out of the corner of his eye as he watched Molly, glittering in the light of the flat from the absolutely sparkly shirt paired with a tight black skirt, spoke with Mary and played with little Charlotte Watson. 

He shifted his trousers slightly once he was seated as he watched them. He hadn’t noticed before how slim her body was or the things she did to him. 

He quickly got up and made for the kitchen, bumping into Molly as she too went with her wine glass in hand. “Oh, sorry, go ahead,” she said with a small smile, stepping aside. 

"We can’t. Mistletoe," he said his voice thin as he looked up at the doorway. He had no idea how it ended up there but he suspected Mrs. Hudson had done do when she had cleaned the flat.

"Oh," she said quietly, her voice a bit high as she glanced up at the offending plant. 

He stepped toward her, his hand folding around her waist when he leaned down and lightly brushed his lips over hers once, twice, before adding more pressure. 

He couldn’t seem to pull away, he realized as his lips moved over hers, nor did she seem to be making an effort to pull away. Finally, once the cleared throat of John Watson broke through their haze, Sherlock stepped back and returned to his seat, leaving Molly leaning against the doorway.

—

It wasn’t until later, when Molly was the last guest to leave, that Sherlock, as she hesitated in the doorway, grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, his lips crashing against hers as he pulled the doorway shut and pushed her against it. His hand slipped under the hem of that sparkly shirt.

"You need to wear this more often," he growled, his lips against her neck.

She moaned, her hand tangled in his curls. “Well that’s the reaction I was looking for,” she sighed, pushing him off her and moving toward his bedroom, pulling the shirt over her head as she went.


	3. Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For likingthistoomuch: Snow fight initates the breakdown of the walls Sherlock has built arnd his heart. Kissing in the snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always nothing belongs to me. Title from Frozen.

He didn’t know how they ended up walking through the park during her lunch but as he walked beside her in silence, he was glad for it. He had a particularly puzzling case at the moment that had thrown him and he couldn’t see how the victim was linked. 

He stopped short as he felt something strike the back of his head. Turning around, he saw a wide grin upon Molly’s face. “What are you doing?”

She worked her face into a look of innocence and he rolled his eyes before beginning to walk again. He didn’t stop again until he felt another hit against his back. He spun around again and spluttered as a snowball suddenly hit him in the face.

He stared at Molly in shock as she ran off, scooping up more snow into her gloved hands before tossing it half-heartedly at Sherlock. 

He watched her for a moment, frolicking in the snow and looking much younger than she was. He didn’t understand what the appeal was in playing like children in the snow until he followed Molly. Scooping up some of the snow into his hands, he carefully molded it into a ball before throwing it at Molly. He grinned when she squealed. Soon enough they were throwing and kicking snow storm each other. Sherlock allowed himself to laugh, to feel the freedom that such a childish activity brought him. He lunged at Molly, wrapping his arms around her waist as he caught her, laughing at her squeak as they toppled over backward into the snow. They lay side by side, his arm pinned beneath her. He reached over with his free arm and brushed her hair away from her bright pink cheeks. He really looked at her, the brown of her eyes, the red tints to her hair were much more evident against the white snow. How had he never noticed it before? He quickly dove into his mind palace, shocked to see all the doors off the main hallway wide open, pictures strewn about. Everything had to do with Molly, every little thing she had said or done over the past decade or so. Molly rolled over slightly so she was propped up on his chest. Slowly, carefully, he leaned up and kissed her.


	4. Keeping Santa Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For weasleygirl928: Molly kisses Sherlock to prevent him from telling the children Santa isn't real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing belongs to me as always, except Abigail, Williams, and Baby Holmes.

"Abigail, William, it’s time for bed so that Santa can come and leave you presents," Molly explained, rubbing her bulging stomach as she took William from Sherlock’s arms. 

"But Mummy," Abigail whined, rubbing her eyes. "I’m not sleepy!"

"Abby, Santa won’t come if you don’t go to bed," Molly said. "Tell them, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at his daughter as he kissed his son. “Actually Santa is just a…” he began to explain as he made to move around Molly and William to pick up his four year old. Molly, her eyes wide, grabbed his arm and jerked him back, kissing him hard and deeply, William wiggling in her arms to be put down.

"Ewwww! Mummy, Daddy, stop it!" Abigail squealed, hiding her face in her hands.

"Oh I’m sorry," Molly wheedled, winking at her husband before jerking her head toward their bedroom. "Say good night to Daddy," she added, helping Abigail off the couch. 

Sherlock bent down and kissed his daughter’s head before she took Molly’s hand and was led upstairs. Sherlock retreated down the hallway, wondering why Molly stopped him from explaining that Santa was not real. He undressed and slipped between the blankets, leaning back against the pillows while he waited for his wife.

He looked up as she entered and got changed. He admired the curve of her stomach, home to the next addition to their brood. Had he imagined his life six years ago, he wouldn’t have expected to be married and a father of two with a third on the way. 

He opened his mouth to begin as Molly climbed into bed but she silenced him once more by pressing her lips to his. “Let them have this myth for once. Let them be like all the other children. I know it’s difficult to lie to them, but wait a while longer. Let them stop believing on their own,” she pleaded, carding her fingers through his hair as she lay her head on his chest.

Sherlock sighed, his hand rubbing over her stomach and smiling softly as a gentle kick greeted him. “Okay,” he replied, tilting his head down to kiss the top of her head before shutting his eyes.


	5. A Plethora of Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For weasleygirl928: Sherlock tends to go overboard when Christmas shopping for Molly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, nothing belongs to me.

"Sherlock?" Molly called out as she entered the flat, hanging her coat up on the back of the door.

"In…in a minute!" He yelled out from the direction of the bedroom.

Molly frowned, making her way toward the bedroom. “Are you okay?” she asked.

"Don’t come in here!"

Molly gently pushed open the door, just in time to see Sherlock pushing a massive pile of shoddily wrapped gifts into a wardrobe and attempting to close the door.

"What are you doing?" She laughed, leaning against the doorway as Sherlock spun around and tried to block her view.

"Out! You can’t see these!" He shooed, waving his hands.

"Are all those for me?" She laughed.

Sherlock gave her a sheepish grin, shifting his weight on his feet.

"No, of course not." He replied defensively, shrugging.

"Mary’s not the only one who knows when you’re fibbing," she chimed as she turned and went back toward the kitchen.


End file.
